Ode to the Year that 'Was'

I was just reading this really cool blog and the author had had the idea to make a blog summing up 2008, with a rather delightful display of images accompanying it, one for each month. Now I'm not as much of a photo enthusiast as the author of said cool blog, but nevertheless I decided I'd have a go at copying the template, though it will probably result in some poor photoshop 'wizard' getting sick all over the walls after having stumbled across this page. Who am I kidding, I WISH people stumbled over this piece o crap... anyway.
WARNING: Because I don't have very many photos of myself in what you might call everyday situations, the images I have selected may be misrepresentative of what my year was actually like; for example, I didn't spend that much of January or February skiing, but the winter wonderland pictures make for a better collage than 12 pictures of me on the bus on my way to school every morning, my head resting against the window, the sun still not risen outside... In fact, remind me to do that idea too some other time if I you ever want me to do a feature on shit school is...
But ye. Without further shit: 2008, let us adore thee!

January: Kicked off the new year in style skiing at Monte Tremblante, Canada with my cousins who live there. The full-on decadence of skiing, and all of its apres-activites began in me a penchant for the sport. I decided I wanted to do it again, and soon. After I got home to Ireland most of the month was then spent cursing the horrible weather (I don't even particularly remember how horrible it was, but in this country it's always safe to assume it was pretty shite) and failing to buckle down to my studies.

February: More study buckling ensued... my friend Hobbes (love making up these nicknames) and his family bring me on a whirlwind adventure to France, where I got in a few days of skiing (score-age!). A bit of mischief involving a disillusioned waiter and a wooden statue of a woman with giant boobies was had, and I stole loads of yoghurts and mars bars from the chalet we were staying in (they were free, and for us...but I'm not that 'out there' so it seemed like a big deal at the time...). My love of skiing grew even stronger.

March: I didn't include a photo of March, because I can't remember anything interesting happening. In a whole month. In fact, looking down though this, if it's not someones birthday and I'm not in another country I don't really do much. Perhaps in March I pondered my own laziness and lack of motivation to be fun. Probably not though.

April: The blurry events of March ran into April, where not much happened again. I probably eventually succeeded around this time in actually starting to do my homework (after the Christmas break it's always so hard to get back down to it..). Denniskerry (oh I like that one) had a party; it was good. That is all.

May: Bituv an old fluctuating one there.. Exam stress and the first anniversary of my Mum's death intermingled with the end of school for summer and my 18th birthday party in a most nauseating concoction. That aside, my birthday was one of the best nights of my life - I was pleasantly pissed, I was so happy everyone was there, and I never wanted it to end.

June: But end it did. Me and the gang jetted off to the hellhole that is Montpellier for a bit of French-learning and whatever you're having yourself. Unfortunately, no one was having anything fun - mostly milk. with a straw. Because it was too hot. And they were tired. I tried to look on the brightside for the whole thing, but this wasn't always easy. The verdict was that it was a trip I was glad I did, but would never do again.

July: In order to make up numbers I've included 2 photos from this most epic of months. Four words: OXEGEN WAS HELLA-FUCKIN-BALLS-TO-THE-WALL AWESOME! Drunkness was the order of the month. The concerts were unbelieveable and I made some really great friends, namely Bert, Harry, and Fred. It was so good that the gang spent the following Monday at Bert's house singing 'I'm in the mood for dancing', eating knacker pizza and generally being messes. I later took up residence in Bert's house for the rest of the summer.

August:It wouldn't be August without a minibreak to the Gee. The usual spots were visited: the heritage centre, the GAA pitch, the Skellig Mist, behind the community centre, to name but a few. Possibly the best minibreak to date? I can never compare them, they're all so good, and I remember so very little of any of them... In any case, it was the perfect end to the summer, if that's not a paradox in terms.

September:6th year began. I was not best pleased. This was one of the busiest months in my living memory - school work was tiring enough without being involved in our school's production of Danton's Death (our 6th year play). The play was very much worth it though. I learned a lot about painting techniques through creating the set, which was a huge plus. And the after party was amazing (though I think that was actually in October... oh screw it it's staying in September: I'm just feeling a little bit crazy!)

October:Midterm came and I breathed a sigh of relief. But, when I opened my mouth to inhale, I found myself uncontrollably filling it with vodka. I attended my sister's 21st birthday, after having predrinks at a Latin lecture in UCD (it was really surreal that...) which was even better than my own milestone in May. Many crazy nights, including a reunion of the oxegen crew, were had, in between which I locked myself away in Stillorgan library to see if they had any books on how to beat the Leaving Cert.

November:I was very proud of myself in this month because I was really getting on top of my school work. AND I was finding time for 'play', which is an equilibrium I had never before reached. It was the real sort of working man's grind you see on T.V: slaving away Monday to Friday and then going on a bender at the weekends.

December:My heart filled with Christmas joy in the lead up to the end of 2008, and I really started to buckle down to the old studies. The whole thing has been a bit of an intense flurry of present buying and cramming for exams (which are over tomorrow thank God), punctuated by brief periods of inebriated relief. I went to see the Snowman in the 'nch', and it was unbelieveable. What about the days to come? It promises to a be a stressful Christmas, with my Dad the way he is trying to pretend that everything is normal this year (when it clearly is not), doing the whole big turkey shabang and inviting everyone we know around for drinks. But it also promises to be a great one. I can't wait to relax, fill myself with food and drink and see all of my friends. AND we're going skiing for New Years! I couldn't have planned it better if I had been devising this blog all year (for anyone who thinks I'm that weird, I assure you I haven't).

Yes, when I put it like that it seems like I had a really great year. And I feel like it was a really great year too. Though I have the Leaving Cert looming next year and the dreaded recession and all I feel like I'm looking forward to more of the same good times. As of now, I feel like life is treating me pretty well.

'Did someone say Fristmas?'

As if my excitement for Christmas couldn't be any greater than it had already been, my excitement for Christmas has become even greater than it had already been: I've been officially invited to a celebration of  'Fristmas' ('Friends Christmas') on the day we finish exams - we're talking the full Christmas works: the food, the presents (Fris Frindel of course), the crackers, the drink (there was even a specific reference to mulled wine somewhere, no joke), but with the added pleasure of company of friends, and minus the excruciating displeasure of having to make conversation with weird uncles and listen to nana farting all through dinner. Whoever came up with this Fristmas idea should seriously be given very extensive supplies of both mulled wine AND hot apple cider.

I'm looking forward to it soooo damn much now. Despite all my talk of Christmas spirit, I have to say I had been a little worried about being stuck with family for the entire holiday. This will be our first Christmas spent 'normally' since my Mum died, and I know though we'll try our hardest to make it as enjoyable as we can that there's going to be times when we all feel dark and lonely. It really is going to be strange... Even as I write that it's our first normal Christmas I'm amazed by how unthinkable this idea is to me, how mysteriously time works; it has been so long since it happened, and yet it could still be yesterday to me. It's been the longest and the shortest time of my life. And I don't mind that that's going to be an unavoidable part of our Christmas from now on, that it's never going to be a wholly joyous event in our house, that there'll always be a cloud. It's just that when those lonely moments arise it's being around my friends that puts a smile back on my face, and I couldn't imagine not seeing them at all, being stuck in our empty house in the middle of Winter... And aside from that, there are the more obvious reasons why I'm looking forward to Fristmas, the chance to get absolutely langered namely. So bring on the Fristmas!

In other news, I finally have an update on the Missing Artist (breath, reader, breath; I know this is exciting for you): Our Art Teacher has informed us that he will be visiting us some time in the coming year, as he is 'otherwise engaged' with art stuff in London... shit. Still, better late than never!

Propa Crimbo

It's that time of year again! And I couldn't be more full of holiday cheer if you hooked the stuff up to my veins, or if you killed me, hollowed me out like a turkey, made holiday cheer stuffing, and crammed it up my ass.

I'm just one of those people who loves the Christmas Season. I can't help it. I wouldn't want to help it. While the rest of you scrooges were moaning about how the sudden drop in temperature these last few days has been giving you nipple frostbite, I've been relishing in this winter wonderland, licking frost off the ground like there's no tomorrow (not actually licking frost off the ground, because that's just dirty, but I was licking it with my eyes, as a watched it from the comfort of a warm fireside couch indoors, if that makes any sense at all, which it doesn't). Maybe it's my memories of last Christmas, which I spent in Canada with my cousins in their big mansion (expect some kind of look-back-to-last-Christmas blog in the near future for reasons why this was so amazing), which mean the cold weather evokes a sense of joy in my usually bitter and cold heart, I don't know. Whatever the reason is, I'm Christmas crazy and I'm hear to stay.

What do I love the most about Christmas you ask? Well, I'm a self-confessed lover of literally anything and everything to do with Christmas, but this year for some reason I've developed a deep desire, a craving much like the ones I assume pregnant women get, for mulled wine. I've only ever had mulled wine once, and that was years ago. I can barely remember the taste. But for some reason I want more of it, I want it so damn bad, I want pots and pots of it right now, steamy, sweet, warming, wholesome, liquidy, tasty, alcoholic, sexy mulled wine, and I want to be sitting around a real fire with my friends and we all have mulled wine in our hands and it's just starting to snow outside and there might be carollers somewhere maybe outside down the other end of the road I don't know.

When I sit and look at the frost outside I remember coming into my cousins house last year out of the bitter cold after a morning spent skiing - the wave of warmth when you get inside, the relief of peeling off the awkward ski-gear - lying down on the couch with the Little Sis watching Christmas with the Kranks drinking 'hot apple cider' to get some heat back into our frozen limbs. In fact, I like to imagine that mulled wine tastes a LOT like that hot apple cider did, which is probably just shameless nostalgia but anyway... it's weird though, who don't I just want hot apple cider? That would actually make sense... How fucked up do you have to be, honestly?

I went so far as to look up mulled wine on the interweb: it's a lot more complicated than I thought, I thought you just fucked wine in a pot and heated it, but as it turns out there are a number of finicky flavourings you need which probably make all the difference, most of which we just don't have, no matter how many times I empty the contents of our entire kitchen in search of them. So I've decided to make the Big Sis do it (what are women for anyway?); she'll probably make it better, and it means I don't have to do anything. So expect a euphoric after-sex mulled wine blog to follow this one, hopefully with a photo of me and the mulled wine in all its hot apple cider-esque glory. Alternatively, expect this to be my last ever blog, as I may die if and when the mulled wine does not taste exactly like the hot apple cider I had one time last year in Canada.

Adieu!